


Say the words / then stay around

by Teatrolley (orphan_account)



Series: astronomy in reverse [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Ministry Work, Not That Much Angst Really, Office Romance, a lot of love, and two very confused people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:32:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5648854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Teatrolley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve been together for a while when Harry decides that he wants to try the Auror Office again. What he doesn’t consider is the effects the work might have on the two of them. But, then again, maybe those effects don’t have to be all bad?</p><p>Or: A few months of the start of the relationship between the fumbling, blind-leading-the-blind and in-love Harry and Draco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say the words / then stay around

**Author's Note:**

> This is part two to 'Fine I'll hold my breath / till I forget it's complicated', but it can be read as a stand-alone.
> 
> It is very self-indulgent, and also mostly for the people who requested that the original story was longer. Here you go! Still, there is some plot to speak of.

Draco is kissing his collarbone the day that Harry gets himself somewhat together and finally says, “So, I’m thinking of going back into the Auror Office.”

“Oh.” Draco stops his ministrations to pull back a little. He stays at his spot lying on top of Harry’s body and covering all of it, though. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and they’ve been lazy for most of it, so while they are both just in their pants, they are not really interrupting anything sexual. 

Harry taps the back of Draco’s hand, where it is lying on top of his chest. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, “and I’m pretty sure that this is actually what I want.”

“And not just what everybody else wants from you?” Draco says. They’ve talked about this before, so Draco is easily able to finish the thought for Harry. 

Harry nods. “Yeah.” 

When Draco shifts a bit, getting into a position from where he can watch Harry more easily, Harry puts his hands to Draco’s hips and digs his fingertips in. He’ll probably never get over being allowed to do this; he’ll never get over Draco wanting him to.

“Have you talked to anyone within the Ministry? Does Hermione know?” Draco asks. His arms that were crossed on Harry’s chest now move, as he moves his hands up to push Harry’s hair out of his forehead. If light-touch-to-Draco’s-upper-back is Harry’s Thing, then this is Draco’s.

“Not yet,” Harry says. “I wanted to talk to you first. Isn’t that what romantic partners do?”

Draco presses his lips together to hide his smile. Harry thinks he understands; he, too, gets giddy in a way that is really just embarrassing whenever Draco mentions their relationship out loud.

“I don’t know,” Draco says. He dips his head down, and kisses the underside of Harry’s chin. “You’re the relationship expert here.”

Harry snorts. “Hardly,” he says. Draco only hums, and then Harry feels lips being pressed into the soft skin where his jaw meets his neck. He buries his hands in Draco’s hair.

“I think it’s good though,” Draco says then. He comes back up, so they can watch each other. “You’re happy about your decision?”

Harry nods. “I am,” he says. Draco dips down to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Good,” he says. “Can I ask what changed your mind?”

Harry smiles. “You can,” he says. “But I won’t answer.”

“Why?” Draco asks. He nudges his nose against Harry’s cheek.

“Because it would be flattering you,” Harry says. He pretends not to notice how Draco’s entire face moves against his own with the grandness of his grin. He turns his head to catch Draco’s lips between his own instead. 

“Maybe you should flatter me,” Draco says, when they pull back. Harry chuckles, but doesn’t reply. Instead he lets his hands travel from Draco’s lower back and downwards. 

“Good enough?” he asks. Draco already starts shifting against him. Harry squeezes him closer.

“Certainly.”

__

So, Harry starts Auror training again, and this time it goes much faster than it did the first time. Barely a month passes before Gawain deems him ready to get his own office cubicle and begin taking missions.

The night before his first day Draco isn’t sleeping over, but he calls Harry to ask him how he’s feeling. Harry lies on the couch, talking to him, and absentmindedly watches Ron and Hermione’s game of Go Fish that they have going on.

“You know, I’m not sure we’re actually allowed to date,” Draco says then.

“Hm?” Harry says. Hermione just put down two sets, and he got momentarily distracted.

“We’ll be working in the same department,” Draco says. Harry’s attention is drawn back to him. He shifts a little.

“Oh,” he says. “Yeah.” Both Draco and Hermione work within the Department of Magical Education, which is a part of the Magical Law Enforcement Department. “Do you think they’d do anything about it, though? If they found out.” 

Draco is silent for a moment; probably considering. Then he says, “Not to you, they wouldn’t.” Harry can gather what it is he doesn’t say.

“But to you, they might?” he asks. Draco probably shrugs. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m good at my job, so maybe not.” Harry smiles; Draco is honest about his capabilities and which of them he doesn’t have, but that also means that he isn’t modest about the ones he does possess. 

“So how about I just don’t come on to you while we’re at work?” he says. “Just to be safe.”

Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Ron watching him from his position on the floor. When their eyes meet, Ron rolls his eyes, so Harry kicks him in the back just hard enough for it to be annoying. Hermione looks like she finds them exhausting. 

“I didn’t say that,” Draco says. His tone is a mix between amused and seductive. Harry chuckles, and kicks Ron again, when Ron grabs his foot and pulls. He uses his free hand to desperately try to keep himself on the couch.

“Oh,” he says. “What does that mean?” He kicks again, so Ron lets go of him, and settles back in a comfortable position.

“It means you can come on to me all you’d like, just as long as you’re sneaky about it.” 

“Hm,” Harry says. He discovers that he’s biting his lip. “I can be sneaky.”

“Get a room,” Ron says; his voice is, probably deliberately, loud enough for Draco to be able to hear him, too. Draco laughs. 

“You get a room,” Harry tells Ron. Ron chuckles too, but rolls his eyes.

“Nice comeback,” he says. Draco chuckles again. Hermione shakes her head at them.

“How many people are in this relationship again?” Draco asks. Harry laughs and presses the phone closer to his ear; it’s a sorry stand-in for actually touching Draco’s skin. Ron returns his attention to the card game.

“I love you,” Harry says, instead of replying. He can hear the grin in Draco’s voice when he replies,

“Sure you do.”

“Hm,” Harry says. Draco is a man of action more than words, so he doesn’t really mind when Draco doesn’t say it back. “Come say hi to me tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” Draco says. “I will.”

__

The next morning when Harry gets in, Draco must have already been there, because when he is shown to his cubicle office there’s already a warm cup of tea on his desk, with a note attached.

“Welcome!” it says. “Right hallway, left side. Be sneaky.” 

Harry smiles. Then he goes to find him.

  


* * *

  


So, they go back to being secretive about each other during the day, like they were when they began. It invokes some of those feelings of passion from back then in Harry and, coincidently, he spends a lot of time with his hand down Draco’s pants in small rooms, and becomes a master in the art of stealing kisses during the few seconds where no one is looking. 

It’s not the same as it was though, because now they also have love and, more than that, they have the security of it. Harry no longer leaves their hurried and frantic do-you-want-okay-let’s-do-it-quickly encounters with the empty feeling of knowing what he can’t have. Instead, he leaves them knowing that Draco will probably come by that evening to sleep in his bed. 

 

He also goes on missions, now. There are still people out there for them to catch and bring in, and occasionally those missions will take days and, even, weeks.

He’s back from one of those missions and the subsequent debriefing one late evening when he, on a whim, goes to check if Draco is still there, and sees the light still on in his office. The door is made of glass, so Harry can see Draco bent over his desk through it, looking concentrated. Harry opens the door, and leans against the doorframe; waiting to be noticed.

When Draco looks up, his smile is so soft Harry thinks he could melt into it. His hair is a bit messy, and his curls have appeared, in the way they start doing when afternoon becomes evening and the products can’t contain them any longer. The circles underneath his eyes are dark, but he looks otherwise happy. 

“Hey, you,” Harry says. Draco’s smile gets a little warmer. His fond expression is so lacking in inhibitions, that it takes Harry’s breath away.

“Hey,” Draco says. “Welcome back.”

“Hm.” Harry walks into the room, and up to the desk. He stands next to Draco, so Draco turns his chair around and looks up. Harry cups Draco’s cheeks between his hands, and leans in to press his lips against Draco’s; so softly it’s barely there. 

Draco hums. His hands leave the armrests on his chair, and comes up to be buried in the edge of Harry’s hair, just above the nape of Harry’s neck. Harry lets the kiss get a little firmer, and smiles into it. 

“I’ve missed you,” he says. Draco’s lips press into his cheeks instead of his lips as he does. 

“Shouldn’t have left then, should you?” Draco says. It’s not an actual protest; Harry can tell from his tone. It’s just fond banter. 

“No,” he agrees. When he pulls back he lets his hand stay between Draco’s shoulder-blades, in the gesture that Draco calls his Thing. 

“Do you need to finish this before you can go home?” he asks. Draco leans into his touch slightly.

“Yeah,” he says. “Probably do.” Harry moves his hand up and touches the nape of his neck, just for a little bit. 

“Caffeine?” he asks then. Draco’s hand comes up to rest on the back of Harry’s knee. 

“Please,” he says. “Tea?” 

Harry goes to make it, but kisses Draco again before he leaves, just for good measure. When he comes back, with two cups, he brings a chair too, and settles down next to him. 

He moves his chair as close as possible. Draco must approve, because as soon as it becomes possible, he leans against Harry’s shoulder. Harry puts his hand back on Draco’s back.

“What are you doing?” he asks. It looks mostly like paperwork. 

“You know,” Draco says; his voice is low in the way it gets when he is either utterly relaxed or just about to fall asleep. “Hogwarts stuff.”

“Oh,” Harry says. 

Since they got together, Harry has begun to occasionally listen to Draco and Hermione when they talk about work, and he has by now gathered that the big project of the moment is to attempt to change up the Housing System. He looks over the papers on the table in front of them, but can’t discern them from each other.

“We’re working on gathering personal accounts at the moment,” Draco says. “And then finding the best ones to put in the report.”

“Sounds like methodical work,” Harry says. Draco shrugs against him. 

“Sometimes,” he says. “Mostly it’s pretty interesting.” 

Harry kisses the top of Draco’s hair. He wonders if he should attempt to convince Draco to come home with him now. Judging by his slow speak, he does need the rest pretty urgently. Harry wonders how good Draco is at keeping a regular schedule when he isn’t around; not very, it seems.

“What about you?” he asks instead. “Your story?” He sees Draco smiling a little to himself.

“My story?” he says. “What’s that? ‘Harry Potter didn’t shake my hand when I was eleven, so I became a Death Eater instead?’” 

Harry laughs; it’s so loud it reverberates off the walls. When he does, Draco’s smile splits his face. Harry kisses the cheek that becomes protruding with it.

“Yes,” he says. “’And then I came by his flat constantly and seduced him, and now I have both revenge and power, because he’s in love with me.’”

Draco laughs, too; it makes his body shake against Harry’s shoulder. Harry chuckles, and really is so very in love with him. 

“Say it again,” Draco says then. Harry bites his lip to stop smiling, and kisses Draco’s temple before he says anything.

Then: “I’m in love with you?”

Draco hums, and it’s pleased, so he was right; that was what Draco wanted to hear. He puts his finger under Draco’s chin and guides his face up, so he can lean in closely. He has to wait a moment before he can kiss Draco, because Draco’s mouth is all smile and teeth. When he does press in, Draco hums again.

“Hm,” he says. “Why?”

Harry snorts, but it’s mostly laughter. “Don’t fish,” he says. “I’ve already flattered you enough.”

Draco shrugs. “Never,” he says, but Harry just kisses him again. That’s all right too, it seems, because Draco shifts his chair so he can get out of it and crawl into Harry’s lap instead. It isn’t sexual, but it’s closeness. 

“You should allow me to take you back to the flat,” Harry says. His hands come up to Draco’s lower back to support him. Draco’s hands are on his cheek, forcing his face to stay put so he can be kissed. 

“All right then,” Draco says; the words tingle on Harry’s wet lips. “If you insist.”

 

Harry does, so twenty minutes later they are both in his bed, and Harry has Draco curled around his back, Draco’s lips at his neck, and Draco’s hand pressed to his chest. They’ll roll out of this position after just half an hour of sleeping, because it will be too warm, but for now it is just good. 

Harry is just close enough to touch the edge of sleep when Draco’s lips move against his neck as he murmurs, “I love you too, you know.” Harry smiles.

“I do know,” he says; his voice is quiet too, to match the atmosphere of the night. 

“Good,” Draco says. His tone is lighter; more teasing, now. “Sorry for not saying it enough.”

Harry finds his hand on his chest and squeezes it. “You say it all the time,” he says.

“Do I?”

“Yeah.” Harry tries not to smile too much. “You’re horrifically easy to read, so…”

Draco chuckles; it makes the small hair of Harry’s neck tingle in the breeze from it. Harry chuckles, too. He turns around in Draco’s grip, so his face is pressed into Draco’s chest instead. 

Draco’s arms come up to hold him close. It’s a little tighter than it usually would be; it means that there’s some sort of desperation present, but when Harry puts his cold hands up under Draco’s shirt, Draco still kicks his shin, so he isn’t too worried. 

He falls asleep, instead, with Draco’s arms around him, and their legs tangled together like they were sleeping together for the first time.

  


* * *

  


The four of them – Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione – are sitting around the dinner table one Wednesday evening, when Draco says, “So, I think I’m going to see my parents.”

The next Saturday he goes for a dinner at the Mansion, and Harry kisses him goodbye for five minutes before he allows him to leave. He tries to distract himself by playing wizard  
Chess with Ron, but it’s rather futile. He goes to bed early instead.

He wakes again after three hours; it is two am. For a moment he is confused, but then he notices the sound of the floorboards creaking as someone moves across them, attempting to be silent, and he understands why he woke. 

For a while he stays in bed, just listening. Only when he hears a tab in the bathroom being turned on, does he feel secure that it’s probably just Draco. He still stays in the bed for a little while longer, until the tab shuts off. 

Harry finds him in the bathroom some moments later, lying in the bathtub. His eyes are closed; he barely stirs when Harry enters. He must have heard Harry though, because he barely stirs when Harry puts his hand down under the water and touches Draco’s stomach either. He opens his eyes. Harry tries a smile.

“Hey?” he says. Draco sends a smile back, and while it is subdued, it is still there; he must have had questionable success then. Harry touches Draco on the middle of his chest. 

“Hi,” Draco says. He closes his eyes again, but hums when Harry moves his hand to his neck, so Harry thinks he’s allowed. He keeps touching Draco’s body lightly under the water then; keeps touching him, until he is ready to speak. 

Eventually, he is: “I told them about you,” he says. 

“You aren’t out,” Harry says. He touches Draco’s collarbones; he can feel Draco’s heart beating a little faster than normal in his chest. It must have been a nerve-wracking experience; at least Harry will never have to go through that. He knows what it’s like not to be accepted, but not by someone who you love.

“I am now,” Draco says. 

“And?”

Draco grimaces; Harry thinks he can deduce what that means. He moves his hand up to tug at Draco’s left earlobe, dripping water into his hair with it.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Draco shrugs. Finally, he opens his eyes again, but immediately turns his head to kiss the palm of Harry’s hand. Harry puts it to his cheek, and guides his head back, so he can watch him properly. He looks more disappointed than sad.

“Dad was the worst. As always,” he says. “Mum was alright.” Harry smiles a little.

“I can imagine,” he says. “Do you know that I’m alive because of her?”

Draco nods. His hand comes up to touch the nape of Harry’s neck; it’s wet, but Harry doesn’t care. 

“She told me that she lied to him,” he says. They don’t need to clarify who ‘him’ is. Harry hums and touches the shell of Draco’s ear.

“Do you know what she said to me?” he asks. Draco shakes his head. “She asked me if you were alive. And if you were inside the school. She did it to safe you.”

Draco studies Harry’s expression for a long moment. Harry can’t figure out what he’s thinking, so he just keeps touching him. Maybe Draco is realising, like Harry has, how similar some of their experiences have been. Eventually Draco takes in a shallow breath and lies back down against the edge of the tub. 

“I wish she’d leave him,” he says then. Harry touches his chest again and hums. He doesn’t quite know what to say, so he remains silent. 

After a few moments of this Draco grabs onto Harry’s wrist gently, and turns his arm around so he can run a finger over his palm. For a while all they do is breathe; Harry lets the languor of the mood settle over them, and lets his breath get calmer. His free hand comes up to tug a little on Draco’s hair, curled from the humidity of the room.

“Come to bed,” Harry says eventually. “I want to kiss you without straining my neck.”

Draco snorts. Then he does.

 

In the bed, Harry is, for once, the one to lie on top of Draco and push the hair out of his face. He presses small kisses all over Draco’s features, just to see him smile. When he does, he kisses that, too. 

“Thank you,” he says then. Draco smiles softly up at him.

“What for?”

“Letting me comfort you.” 

In response, Draco runs his hands through Harry’s hair, too, and leans up to press a kiss to the side of his face. Harry smiles, and turns his head so it hits his lips. 

“Sure,” Draco says. “Promise me something?” 

“Yeah?”

Draco draws in a big breath. His fingertips press into the low of Harry’s back. 

“Don’t ever leave me because you think it’s the noble thing to do,” he says. Harry chuckles; still, he thinks he understands the request. He kisses Draco, and tries to make it articulate that.

“Promise,” he says, when he pulls back. He feels Draco’s smile being pressed into his skin. “I love you,” he adds, for good measure. Draco’s smile gets wider.

“That’s all right,” he says. Harry laughs again; this time it’s louder.

“Say you love me back,” he says. Draco grins, too. Harry moves back a bit, so he can watch it properly.

“I love you back.”

__

The next mission Harry is sent on has something go wrong during it. He isn’t hurt, thank God, but it does mean that it lasts longer than planned; a little less than three weeks, to be exact. It’s abroad, international, and very secret, so he isn’t even able to call home regularly. Gawain won’t let him.

Instead, he is allowed to talk to people on a secure line going through the Ministry once a week. The first week no one knows about him and Draco yet, so Draco isn’t invited to come along. 

“How are you guys?” Harry asks Hermione, who is the only person who has been allowed to talk to him. Ron can’t, because he isn’t Ministry. It’s a poor excuse for asking about Draco.

“Everything is fine. Ron’s cardboard city project is coming along well.” Said project is Ron using their used milk cartons and other cardboard to create small houses with the intent that it’ll be a city at some point during the next few months. 

“Draco has helped him a lot. I think he needs something to do,” Hermione continues. “He stays in at work late. Comes over quite a lot, though.”

“Merlin,” Harry says. “Can you handle them?”

She’s silent, but Harry is sure that means she’s probably mentally sending him an ‘are-you-serious?’ look. 

“I can handle anything,” she says. Harry chuckles, but he also knows that it’s true. 

“I love you,” he tells her. She huffs out a breath.

“You better,” she says. Harry grins. 

“Ma’am,” he says. If she were here, she’d have hit him over the head. She can’t, now, but she snorts instead. 

“Be nice,” she says. “Otherwise I might not help sneak Draco to the phone next week so you can talk to him.”

“Please,” Harry says. “I’ll give you the last biscuit for a month.” 

She chuckles. “Two,” she says, still.

“Deal,” Harry agrees. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

__

It is true that Hermione is able to make anything happen; this included. The next week, when Harry is allowed to call the office over the secure line, it is Draco’s voice he is met with. 

“God, it’s good to hear your voice,” Harry says. Draco chuckles, once; it’s enough for Harry’s entire chest to clench in on itself with the desire to crawl through the phone-line and into Draco’s hands. He misses him so much. 

“When are you coming home?” Draco asks. Harry wants him to keep talking, just so he’s able to listen to his voice. It’s quiet and through the phone it feels to Harry like it does when Draco runs a flat hand over his back; smooth and comfortable. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “Hopefully soon.”

“Really,” Draco agrees. “I think Hermione is beginning to find Ron and I annoying.” 

Harry laughs. “That’s because you encourage him,” he says. He hears Draco snorting. 

It’s light-hearted and merry, but there’s a slight tint of something more earnest underneath it; Harry thinks it’s the clawing creature of missing him, and being missed. It’s what that entails too, probably; that it’s this huge after just two and a half weeks. 

“I miss you,” Harry says. He can almost hear it when Draco’s expression must become more sober. 

“It’s a bit bad,” Draco says, agreeing. “I sleep in your bed because it smells like you.”

Harry smiles to himself, and presses the phone closer to his ear. God, it’s tempting to try and apparate back to England right now. Not safe, probably, but he’s starting not to care.

“That _is_ a bit sad, yeah,” he says instead. Draco’s chuckle is there, but weak enough to mostly be a huff of breath. Harry wishes he could touch his cheek.

“It’s not the same though,” Draco says; his voice is slow and quiet in the way it is during confessions of an emotional nature. “Your bed. It doesn’t feel … like home.” 

Harry’s breath, when he draws it in, is shallow. “Does it normally?” he asks. Draco is quiet for the time it takes to breathe in twice.

“Yes,” he says then. Harry smiles, but almost wants to cry. He gets up from where he is sitting and goes to the wall instead, leaning his forehead against it. He tries to breathe properly; emotions like this are terrifying, and he can’t believe that they are his.

“Maybe I’m your home,” he says. It’s better than asking if Draco can forgive him for leaving this often.

Draco chuckles when he does; it’s so hoarse and groggy though, that Harry is almost sure that Draco is actually crying. God, he wants to come home.

“Don’t be sappy,” Draco says. Harry laughs, too; it’s all right. Maybe he doesn’t have to be scared. 

“Hurry back though,” Draco continues. The phone makes a scratching sound as Draco breathes in heavily. 

“Yes,” Harry promises. He will.

__

When he does come home, only four days later, he finds Draco sleeping in his bed. Harry looks at the way he is hogging the duvet, and lets fondness bloom. When he looks a little closer at the shirt Draco is wearing, he sees that it is his own. 

He takes off most of his clothes, until all he has on is his pants. He considers if he should grab a blanket for himself, since the duvet doesn’t look very accessible right now, but when he puts his knee to the mattress and it moves, Draco groans a little and shifts. 

Harry lies down on the bed, and moves as close to Draco as possible. He tugs a little at the duvet, and is allowed to lift it and crawl under it. When he moves in and slots himself in against Draco’s body, Draco groans again; he must be partially conscious. 

“Hi,” Harry whispers. He kisses Draco’s forehead. Their chests are presses against each other. Draco puts his arm over Harry’s waist and snuggles into him. 

“Mm.”

“Don’t wake up,” Harry says. Draco groans again and nudges his nose against the top of Harry’s chest. Moments later his breath evens out again, and he must be sleeping. Harry feels the air huffed over his nipple, and feels happy to be home. 

 

The next morning, when he wakes, Draco is lying on his back, and they’re only touching where Harry’s hand is on Draco’s chest. He shifts it, and runs his index finger down the small dip in the middle of the chest. 

The effect is immediate; Draco’s grin splits his face in half after barely a second. Harry chuckles to himself. 

“Hey,” he says. Draco turns his head in Harry’s direction before he opens his eyes. When he does, they are glinting. 

“Welcome home,” he says. Harry flattens his hand and palms it over Draco’s nipple.

“To you, too,” he says. For a brief moment Draco looks confused, but then he must realize what Harry is referring to, because he pushes his hand into Harry’s face. 

“Shut up,” he says. Harry laughs; he lets the feeling of it bubble through his chest and warm his bones. 

“Make me,” he says. He moves in closer, so their faces are inches apart. 

It’s Draco who kisses him, and then he does. 

 

  


* * *

  


Winter comes around, and their central heating is rather poor, so Draco starts wearing socks in bed. Harry gets used to having the fabric pushed into the low of his back, when he is moving languidly into Draco at night, and Draco’s legs are wrapped around his waist. 

One evening, when Harry is back from a two-day mission and makes them all cups of tea, Draco thanks him with a kiss to his temple and says, “Thanks, babe.” Harry stops in his tracks from where he is leaning into Draco, attempting to kiss his temple back, but Draco just smiles and says it again. Harry decides that he doesn’t really mind.

One afternoon Draco is attempting to seduce Harry on the couch, when Harry interrupts him to comment on how squishy his face is, and Draco just finds him sweet. Not long after, Draco walks up to him in the kitchen and says, “So maybe we should come out at work,” and, when they do, no one really minds, but they instead become everyone’s favourite couple to root for.

Draco wears socks in bed, calls him a pet name, and suggests that they come out at work, and what it means to Harry is security; it means that they grow into each other, closer and closer; it means that he stops constantly fearing that Draco will one day say that he’s had enough and get up to go.

 

On a Sunday afternoon not long after, Draco is lying on top of Harry, but on his back, so they can’t see each other. They’ve done next to nothing all day, and are continuing to do next to nothing that afternoon. Draco’s in his pants, and Harry is cupping his hands from behind, his palm against the back of them, and their fingers intertwined. 

This position means that he’s able to move the hands and clap them together; so, obviously, he does. Draco snorts, but chuckles when Harry does it again. It’s comfortable; that’s the only fitting word Harry can think of. Just comfortable. 

“Do you think we could fuck like this? In this position?” he asks. He moves Draco’s hands, so it looks like he’s punching the air. Draco hums.

“I don’t know,” he says. “It’d be hard work for you, lifting the both of us.”

Good point, Harry thinks. He tries the movement out, thrusting upwards once; it’s not hard to do it once, but he can feel Draco’s added weight making the muscles of his thighs strain a little. 

Draco pulls his hands away, so he can put them on the sheets next to them and stop himself from falling down. Harry chuckles, and puts his palms flat on Draco’s chest instead. He runs them up and down then, until Draco settles back in comfortably on top of him.

“It’s a good angle for wanking you off though,” Harry says. 

He demonstrates this by moving his hand downwards, and putting it to the front of Draco’s pants, palming him through them. Draco twitches and chases it a little; consequently his bottom also moves over Harry through his pants.

“Oh,” Harry exclaims. “And your grinding will affect me.” He dips his hand down under Draco’s waistband, but doesn’t touch him; he just pulls a little at the pubic hair he finds there.

“And you’ll be able to feel me hardening against you,” he says; his voice remains the same octave as before though, so it isn’t really seductive. Still, when he says, “That’s pretty hot, right?” Draco hums an affirmative, and it sounds just a bit husky and strained.

“Definitely,” he says. “Let’s do that.”

Harry hums and kisses Draco’s shoulder. Then he removes his hand, and puts it back on Draco’s stomach. “Later though, right?” he asks. It’s lazy, but with the amount of time they’ve had together now, sex doesn’t always have to happen immediately. 

“Later,” Draco agrees. “I can’t be bothered to fetch the lube.”

Harry hums again. This time he presses his lips into the nape of Draco’s curls, where he has a few strands of hair, tightly curled from the humidity of Harry’s breath against them.

“Do you want to know a giraffe fact?” he asks. Draco snorts, and then Harry’s hands on top of Draco’s stomach are taken and fingers are intertwined with his.

“Sure.”

“Giraffes are the animal with the highest blood pressure of all,” Harry says. “It’s because their necks are just so long. Like, so long.” 

Draco snorts, and kisses the knuckles on Harry’s hands.

“You’re very good at making conversation,” he says. Harry goes back to kissing his neck.

“Yeah, I know,” he says. 

Comfortable silence settles over them; they both allow the languor of the afternoon to engulf them, and just exist together for a while. Draco takes Harry’s hands and forces them to his sides, so Harry’s arms are crossed over his chest. Harry gnaws at his shoulder gently, and he feels Draco smiling. It’s kind of perfect.

“I’m thinking about selling my apartment,” Draco says then. Said like that, it doesn’t seem like a big deal. Maybe it isn’t, Harry thinks; not considering the rest of their already pretty long history.

“Okay,” he agrees.

“It’s a lot of rent to pay and then only live there a third of the time.” Draco doesn’t have to argue, really; Harry is already convinced. 

“Sure,” Harry says. “”So you’ll be moving in here, right?”

Draco pats Harry’s hands. “Do you want me to?” he asks. Harry squeezes him a little tighter.

“Obviously I want you to,” he says.

Draco reacts by letting go of Harry’s hands, and turning around in his grip instead. Harry puts his hands to the low of Draco’s back, and smiles softly up at him. Draco crosses his arms on Harry’s chest, over his collarbones, and leans down to kiss him.

“You should stay around. For, like, a long time,” Harry says. Draco smiles and hums. He kisses Harry’s earlobe.

“Does that mean forever?”

“I mean I wasn’t going to exaggerate my chances, but if you’re willing then I won’t stop you.” Harry’s smile is giddy; he allows is to be. Draco bites his lip, but his smile breaks through anyway.

“I love you,” he says. It blooms in Harry’s chest, warming him. He wants to take the words, and wrap them up inside of himself, keeping them cherished forever. He wants to have them, and paint them with Draco’s smell and smiles, and know that they will always belong to the two of them.

Instead of saying this, he says, “Forever?” 

Draco smiles and kisses him.

“Something like it,” he says. 

Harry could live with that.

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill, I'd be so very happy if you left me a comment and told me how you liked it?


End file.
